


Make a Date of It

by HisAngelThursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Dean In Love, First Dates, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Dean, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pining Dean, Sweet Castiel, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAngelThursday/pseuds/HisAngelThursday
Summary: Dean knew he’d never be with Cas.It was just too complicated.  Yeah, the younger hunting community did seem significantly more progressive than John’s old buddies, throwing around f slurs and laughing over beers, but Dean was in his thirties.  His late thirties.No one came out at this age, and if he did, he was sure they would think he was faking, having some bizarre mid-life sexual crisis or trying to get attention.  Moreover, he was a legend among hunters:  he didn’t want his going both ways to become the talk of the town, their variation of celebrity gossip, even if it wasn’t in a completely negative context.So he could never be with Cas.  It just wasn’t practical.





	Make a Date of It

Dean knew he’d never be with Cas. 

It was just too complicated.  Yeah, the younger hunting community did seem significantly more progressive than John’s old buddies, throwing around f slurs and laughing over beers, but Dean was in his thirties.  His _late_ thirties.  

No one came out at this age, and if he did, he was sure they would think he was faking, having some bizarre mid-life sexual crisis or trying to get attention.  Moreover, he was a legend among hunters:  he didn’t want his going both ways to become the talk of the town, their variation of celebrity gossip, even if it wasn’t in a completely negative context.  

So he could never be with Cas.  It just wasn’t practical.  

Still, he couldn’t help but feel that familiar sense of longing as he watched Cas stitch up his trench coat, delicate fans of dark eyelashes over soft, tired bags and prominent cheekbones, stubble sprinkling his jaw. Man, it would be great if Cas was human.  

If Dean was just a normal guy who’d met him in a park or a grocery store, who could have worked out his sexuality in his teens or twenties like any normal fence-sitter, instead of worrying about his brother’s life or the damn apocalypse.  Or even if it wasn’t, even if things were just as they were now, Dean couldn’t help but think how amazing it would be to hold him in his arms late at night while he slept, press his nose to that dark mess of hair and breath in the soapy smell of shampoo.  

Maybe start to see a grey hair or two. That was another pleasant thought:  Cas going grey, Cas the silver fox.  

He’d always had a thing for mature guys, though he’d absolutely never admit it, and he was surprised to find the idea of getting old together with Cas a pleasant one.

But then, he’d blown his chance to have human Cas, hadn’t he?  Cas had been human once, been ready to settle down in the bunker for good, and Dean had kicked him to the curb.  He’d spent every day regretting it.

“Dean, are you okay?” Dean blinked, remembering Sam was there.  He was sitting perpendicular to Dean at the long wooden table, open laptop and book of lore in front of him, looking at Dean with concerned, puppyish eyes.  

Even Cas paused in his mending the wounded sleeve, looking up to see what this latest drama could be.   

Dean cleared his throat.  “’Course I’m okay.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno,” Sam shrugged.  “You’ve just been sort of spacing out for a really long time.  You looked kind of upset.”

“Bullshit,” Dean scoffed, a tad defensively.  “M’not upset.”

“I noticed, too,” Cas pointed out.  “But it’s been a rudimentary aspect of his personality since I’ve known him, so I generally elect to ignore it.”  There was a brief pause as Dean mustered a glower.  “If you’d like, I could read his mind...?”

 _“No!_ ”  Dean cried, horrified by the suggestion.  

Sam ran a palm over his face, clearly trying not to laugh.  Sadistic bastard.  “It’s fine, Cas.  I’m sure Dean is just...distracted.” 

Cas nodded hesitantly.  “Very well.  Let me know if this changes, Dean:  I should very much like to help.”

“Yeah, don’t count on it,” Dean muttered, pretending to go back to his laptop.  

God, Cas was a sweetheart.  Oblivious, but a sweetheart.  Dean could see now that all he’d ever wanted to do was help.  To help Dean.

So many missed opportunities, over the years they’d known each other.  So many times he’d noticed that mouth, full and chapped and supple, when he could have closed the gap between them and let the warmth consume him.  So many times he could have said something, anything, to convey to Cas how he felt. 

Dean froze suddenly as a realization dawned on him then:  if he could look back on moments five years ago that he could have told Cas how he felt but didn’t, five years from now, would he feel the same way?  Would he still be hooking up with the same sexually frustrated housewives that liked to boss him around the way he craved, or odd bull named Larry, only to come home feeling empty and full of regret?  

Would he still be watching Cas from afar and wishing he’d said something, anything, to convey that he loved him as more than a friend?  To convey that he loved him at all? 

 _It’s too late_ , said that nagging little voice in his head.  _Too complicated.  He isn’t even your species!_

Dean realized he didn’t care.  He’d spent his whole life watching people wait for some idyllic scenario to come along to show their loved ones how they felt:  John promising he’d give his boys the life they deserved after he got his precious revenge, Mary studiously avoiding them until she could mold their lives into what she’d envisioned for them over thirty years prior.  

Dean wasn’t going to repeat their mistakes.  He couldn’t.

 _Think of the hunters!_ the voice persisted.  _Do you really want them knowing you like guys?_

Dean scoffed inwardly.  At the end of the day, who fucking cares?  He’d met gay hunters before.  One of them was a goddamn witch.  The hunting community had changed a lot since he’d last been involved.

And yeah, he was sure there was still some homophobia lurking, but was he really gonna let that stop him?  Besides:  there might be some young hunter kid scared to come out of the closet, who might be inspired to if he knew Dean Winchester was bi.  

Dean could have really used someone like that when he was younger.

“Cas, do you wanna go get burgers?”  Dean blurted the phrase out without thinking, causing both Sam and Cas looking up in surprise.  

Dean swallowed, suddenly feeling very awkward as silence hung thick in the air.  

“I mean...just if you want to, that is,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously as he felt his ears grow hot.

Cas blinked.  “Certainly.  You know I love burgers, Dean.”

Dean stared at him, then chuckled awkwardly, not really processing that he’d just said yes.  “Yeah, that’s, uh.  Kinda why I asked.”

There was a long silence before Cas offered, “Shall we go now, or...?” 

Dean blinked, still in a haze as he registered the question.  “No no.  I mean, uh.  We can if you want to, but I was kinda thinking we could go tomorrow night.”  He swallowed, palm rubbing over his trachea.  “Y’know.  Make a date of it.” 

Dean chuckled awkwardly again as Cas’s eyes widened, expression unreadable.  He was peripherally aware of Sam’s comically baffled facial expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.  He looked as though if you poked him with your finger, he would fall over. 

Finally, Cas said quietly.  “I would love that, Dean.”

“...Great.”  Dean cleared his throat, nodding slowly.  A nervous smile spread over his face.  “Great!  Uh, tomorrow at eight, then?”

“That would be wonderful, Dean.”  

Dean had to resist the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.  Everything about this was incredible.  The fact that he’d just asked Cas out on a date.  The fact that he’d said ‘yes.’  

The way Cas said his name.  _Dean.  Dean.  Dean._   Dean thought he could listen to that voice say his name forever and never get tired of it. He and Cas sat there in mutually baffled silence for a moment or two longer, before Sam’s exhausted, relieved sigh broke the spell.

“Fucking  _finally._ ”


End file.
